THE ABSENTEE LANDLORD.

New Zealand Times, Volume LXVII, Issue 3330, 12 January 1898, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE ABSENTEE LANDLORD.

. A GLIMPSE AT THE FOURTH PROFESSION. [By Guy H. Scholefieud.] For Bomo ore high* and some are low, And some are out of the running; And thus for ever the world will go, The high man chafes at the power or the low, And the low at the high man's canning. Nominally autumn, it is really summer in a certain smiling plain in South Otago, where the land has donned its annual coat of hospitable brown and green and all the shades and intensities of yellow. The hills of bistre shot with green, the ridges prosperous yellow, the uplands brown with fern, the gullies stem and dark; hero a bold, densely-wooded spur, shrouded in a fine blue gossamer haze of heat, and standing abruptly into an Italian sky, there the glaring yellows of a laden plain, studded with delightfully cool-looking clumps of bluo-gums—all make a kaleidoscopic view worthy of the adulation of a poet. Descend to the dusty metalled roads, the veins of all this wealth. A flock of panting sheep slowly and almost imperceptibly fidget alpng; a very hot drover leading his horse behind, inanely swinging a sprig of broom in menace at the Stragglers, wipes the perspiration from his face with his' sleeve, and says what he has said since leaving Greenfield a week or two before— -‘ Good-day.’ You assent and pass on; it is supposed to be the proper thing to do.

You are soon filled with the beauties—the sweet simple sights and the dreamy entrancing sounds—of a New Zealand summer. Now a mill is humming busily near a farmyard. The hum has scarcely died away when a reaper and binder is heard away at the bottom of a paddock. The noise becomes louder and louder, the machine rattles and clicks past you, the horses snorting alternately and the near one munching a few, stolen heads of whe&t. This, tod, passes, and the chunks ing of drays ‘leading in ’ follows. To tho oar that can Appreciate, these sounds are niusic.

uo a little further; any distance you Will, where you will, On a main road in Dtago, aidd you will meet a New Zealand Bight—a swagger." Trudging along the loads froth Pioto'n to Bluff this class has eVer a representative. They are ever moving between . the towns; and they so order tiieir wanderings that they may reach a farm at night and home at the end of the season—careful not to take a day’s work into account. There are, of course, some deserving characters in this disbanded soldiery, but the very general run of swaggers are men who do not care to work for a living, preferring to live an itinerant life oh the roads for a few months of each year, begging at all the farmhouses and knocking about the towns for perhaps a week at a time, picking up a living by .-representing themselves as fallen gentlemen or poor but honest and willing men, who have walked a quite impossible number of miles without a bite of food. Eequosted to work for a meal, they almost invariably disappear; offered a job, declare’they are en route to one with wages a shilling per day bettor j meeting a farmer, religiously shun him, or perhaps ask for a ‘ shake-down,’ which is almost as good; meeting a young hand, pander to, his pride by informing him that he is ‘ a smart young fellow,’ and if, as is highly probable, the remark is not flatly contradicted, follow up the advantage with a request for ‘jest a fill’; taken in for a meal by some young vicar, they mark the gate-post' on leaving with a sign of hope and charity to the profession in general. Such is the fourth profession ifl 1 Its essence-.

Down by the creek near the station oh Cheltenham Estate stood a tent, neatly ihade and neatly pitched. It was just such a spot and just such a tent as on average schoolboy would take for his ideal. There were all the accompaniments of summer in New Zealand. Numerous talkative sparrows twittered in the willows, interrupted now and again by the clanging note of the tui, the creek bubbled away contentedly below, and a thousand crickets kept up a constant crepitus in the grass; while over the hedge and across a paddock the sheep loudly protested against the mustering.

Near at hand the owner of the tent, one of the fourth profession, lay dozing on the ground, his hat over his eyes and his legs drawn up like a stick insect. Under the hat his countenance was painfully unprepossessing—a rough complexion and coarse unevenbeard. An ordinaryperson, stumbling across such a one, would naturally think rash things and decamp. Such, however, was not the persuasion of the two diminutive personages who laboriously approaching through the tall grass fringe of the creek, gathering pet weeds and exchanging baby wisdom on everything which seemed to be a profitable topic.

At length they emerged from the grass, and approached the tent, toddling with childish confidence right up to the uncouth proprietor, whom they greeted respectively with ‘ Alio, uncle,’ ‘Dooday, uncle; we’s woked y’upfollowed by ripples of triumphant laughter. The swagger jumped up at the sound, adjusted his hat, stretched himself, yawned behind his-hand, and then punctiliously shook hands with his small visitors and patiently proceeded to open the conversation in the most fatherly and pleasant tones, the children the while busying themselves about the camp, They were the family of the proprietor of the run and, young as they were, had not learned to draw the subtle distinction men make between their own status and that of the swagger who had permanently taken up his abode by the creek, doing a day’s work now and then in order to pay the rent for his plot and privilege, and to buy food. .

The manager was a gentleman bom and bred, but by long disuse had almost lost sight of the fact, and the proprietor’s children, for whose keep and care he had a handsome fee, he looked upon as an imposition. lUso his wife, whose social functions, on a,large and exclusive scale; they interfered with. Wherefore the lot of these two philanthropists was made more tolerable by allowing the children fteedopi to ‘ knock up ’ a friendship with the swagger, whom they judged to be a

worthy fellow, and fit company for the family of a mere absentee landlord. Tho swagger, on tho other hand, was only too glad to foster tho friendship thus formed, and the little ones who assisted to

brighten his lonely hours with. childish precocity, called their companion, whose company they preferred to that of tho children from tho neighbouring station, ‘ uncle,’

‘ Ho wantsh a dlink, Uncle,’ said Budge, referring to a snow-white kitten they had presented to tho swagger, but nevertheless treated as their own. ‘ He’sh dying for a dlink.’

Ever anxious to please, Unde poured some milk into a tin plate, and handed it to Budge. After a stormy transit it at length arrived safely at the feet of the kitten, and tho children, after dipping the kitten’s head into **■" — :, i, „„,i u there until it sneezed, squatted down to watch, Budge in constant loquacity, tor which the manager’s wife had frequently whipped him, and Dod in steadfast silence, for which she also had been ‘ tipped ’ more than once.

In a few minutes tho plate was dry, and Budge, in great concern addressed the kitten : ‘ Had ’null, pushy ; pushy done yet ?’ The kitten moved its head ambiguously.

‘ Aw, pushy not done yet ; pushy wantsh more. Wait a bit, pushy, me get more soon ;’ and off he darted, threading his way in dangerous haste among the sticks and utensils, vainly attempting to keep his eye on tho kitten and evade the litter on the ground at once. At length the plate was refilled and conveyed to its destination, and so on until ‘ pushy ’ was so round and plump that it had to lio down.

• Then the conversation, between the swagger and the children continued, and Uncle, who seemed to have learnt all about the station and its people, noticed with silent pain the litttle guiles and wiles that the inanftger and his wife were instilling into their little wards. Casually he asked if the manager, whom also they called Uncle, was their father’s brother. For a moment the two stood in meditation. Then Budge gave it up and devoted his noisy attention to tho kitten. But Dod, more thoughtful, remained pensive, arid was rewarded with a solution of tho problem. ‘ No, 1 she said eagerly, ‘ I sink pa’s his bluvver.’ Uncle was silently amused.

Uncle, as a swagger, had his periods of intemperance, and in this respect ho was more a swagger than in aught else. Now there was a certain Robson, an odd man and a rouseabout, whoso duty it was to keep the station clear of thistles in summer and of swaggers in season, and ho was taken on fitfully to perform his functions. Robson was, through no virtue of his, bo it known, one of the deities of tho fourth profession. If they found favour in his eyes, that is, if they Were perfectly sober or he thought them too sober to molest they might depend upon a few oddments after meals at the hut near the station gate. But upon a day it happened that Uncle was jovial, and had passed from joviality to hilarity and so to irresponsibility, which is not a very long metamorphosis. And Robson, happening near the tent, took it to be part of his duty to call Uncle by a name, which, when sober, he would have taken ill; and, moreover, appropriated during a weak moment a fine pair of tojp boots in which he knew Uncle kept hlb cash in hand; Uncle staggered after the rouseabout, and when no longer able td keep within distance hurled abuse at his head and said a few incoherent words about the children.

Bobson was a heavy drinker himself ih his hut in the evenings, and always went to bed without knowing it and woke up knowing only too well. But at sight of Another he was filled with a righteous disgust, and, stowing his booty in his hut, called upon the manager. After many things had been said he turned away indignantly with, ‘ sech a man as ’im to ’ave about the place. Ahm fair sick o’ keepin’ ’im to ’is ’ut. Fominst a public road, too; an’ drinkin’ somethin’ doggish. Then the idees ’e puts in them ohilder ; they’re ’

Now the man who clears off thistles and swaggers for merely his keep is an institution which it is policy for the manager of a station to humbur; so the manager was deeply affected by the news of the contaminating influence of the swagger on the children, his wards ; and he immediately gave orders for Uncle’s tent to be struck, his swag packed, and himself put, bag and baggage,' on the main road to hie elsewhere.

Eobson Was only too glad to receive the coveted authority, and immediately transmitted the order to several of the men to put into effect. Which was done. And a night passed.

It was not a tedious law case. It was not a sudden revelation, a matter of lost wills or identifying scars. Next day two men rode up to the station house at Cheltenham and asked to see the manager. One was the proprietor’s attorney, a solicitor from the nearest town ; the other a gentleman of medium height, olein shaven, well dressed, sitting a good seat on a good horse. The manager invited thenl in, whore, at cake and wine, the gentleman wrote his signature on a card and handed it to the manager. The writing was familiar ; it was that of the proprietor, too. Then the title-deeds were produced, and the gentleman asked for his leg boots, his swag, a refund of rent of plot overpaid, and to see his children.

The manager turned white and left the room, returning shortly with his wife and children, whom he introduced to the proprietor and their father; and the swagger, in the white shirt and new cloth suit of civilisation, took over the rim and wrote out a cheque for bonus to the manager.

The men were mustered at the cookhouse, and the manager introduced the proprietor, who before them all demanded of Eobson his top-boots and cash, and forthwith promoted old Tom’Lynch, who was a pensioner, to cut thistles off Chiitenham while Eobson served 24 hours in gaol. The proprietor is now manager, and has married a second time, and now that his beard is gone and he lives as a gentleman again, he dispenses meals to the fourth profession and is a respected member of society and a landmark in the county.